Bethyl Stuff and Thangs
by engineergirl86
Summary: A collection of one shots featuring Beth Greene and Daryl Dixon. Bethyl. Ranging in length and rating. Some semi-cannon, some AU. Prompts welcome.


**Howdy! Welcome to the first of my Bethyl One-Shots Series. Its supposed to be "Bethyl Stuff. . . Thangs" but ffn didn't like the ellipsis. Some will be semi-cannon (deviating from cannon but still ZA) and some will be totally AU. I also will write from prompts for these. More on that later. So, this first one is going to be a bit more intense, as far as ratings and bad stuff than what I typically write, so that's why there is an M rating. There won't be anything super explicit, but it's pretty intense so I just want to throw this out there before you jump in and start reading. I'm kinda nervous about posting it to be honest. I don't take this stuff lightly, and I know these things happen to real people and it's horrible. Just read the warning and decide if you are comfortable reading this chapter. I just know that this is a very real possibility after what almost happened to Carl and Michonne (if you watched "A" this won't be any more explicit than that, in my opinion). But if rape is a trigger for you, please don't read this. I don't want to disturb anyone, so consider yourselves warned. **

**Woot woot! 10 days til Season 5! This fic is kinda in honor of that…**

_Type: Semi-cannon  
>Rating: M<br>Warnings: Attempted rape, death (not of main characters), violence  
>Setting: After at the end of 4x13 "Alone" Daryl runs after the car when Beth gets taken for three days (obviously not running for three days) stopping only to sleep and eat a couple of hours at a time. When he comes to the split in the road, he decides to go with one of the forks that looks like there may be a drop of fresh oil. He knows he has to try something. After a bit of looking around on a few different small roads he sees the black car with the white cross parked at a large house with a fence and several lights on in various windows. . . _

**Disclaimer: I don't own TWD or any of the characters.**

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><p>-o-oOo-o-<p>

**Hold Me**

_Chapter 1_

-o-oOo-o-

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><p>Daryl quickened his pace the moment he saw the black car with the white cross, pulling his crossbow off of his back, and positioning it, ready to take out any form of threat. Adrenaline kicked in and fought off the exhaustion that was threatening to cripple him. Daryl reached down to his side to make sure his hunting knife was still secured and ready to be pulled at a moment's notice. He wouldn't be able to redraw the crossbow if he got surrounded by armed men. Walkers were so much easier than people to deal with. No weapons, slow, mindless, he wished they were his only problem. It was easy to shoot a walker and reload before the next was on him. He silently bemoaned the fact that he didn't have a handgun as well, much as he loved his crossbow.<p>

The front of the house was guarded by two men with rifles, so Daryl silently approached the side of the house and peered into the window to which he was closest. To his amazement there were six hunting rifles lying on the wooden table in the middle of the room, and a shelf with at least a dozen handguns. Eight or nine shotguns were leaning against the opposite wall, and another shelf held stockpiles of ammunition of all sorts. Two men stood at the doorway, each armed with a handgun, guarding the weapons room. Daryl stepped away from the window to think for a moment, out of their line of sight, though they were facing the opposite way. There was no need to guard the window, as it was so high that no one could climb into it without drawing the attention of the guards. The bottom of the window was at Daryl's eye level and it was a small window. He was fairly certain that he could fit through it, but not without being shot by one of the two men. He had mastered moving silently as a hunter, but the risk of one of them glancing back was too high. He couldn't free Beth if he got shot climbing in a window. He hadn't seen anyone beyond the door to the room, but that didn't mean they weren't there. He could shoot one of the men and redraw as the other approached, but he would likely call out, and Daryl could tell there were other people in the house, even though he couldn't see that they were close to the guards. His best option seemed to be to look around the house a bit more and see what other options there were.

Sneaking around the back all the windows but one were boarded up where he couldn't see in. He crept up to the un-boarded one, keeping low and against the side of the house. He crouched and listened to the conversation coming from inside.

"That ain't enough for her."

"Please, this's all I got, I swear! I just want a few minutes."

"What are you stupid? We got a brand new girl, an' you think you can roll up in here with a can of beans and get a few minutes with 'er? Guy up there now gave us six rifles. Pretty little blonde's worth at least three big nice guns even when he's done with 'er."

Daryl felt his stomach twist into a knot and suddenly the anger took over and he was climbing blindly into the window, not caring what happened to him. He barely remembered the necessity of doing so silently. Thankfully the two guards from the front door were busy taking the man out of the house leaving only one, who seemed to be in charge, left for Daryl to deal with. Daryl had dropped into the kitchen out of the window and he seemed to be heading Daryl's way.

He came around the corner, seeing Daryl and saying "Hey! What the-" as he started to draw his gun. Daryl shot him between the eyes and reloaded.

"What was that?" He head footsteps to his right that he hadn't heard before and took cover behind the counter.

"I'll stay here and guard. You go check."

"Jeff? Hey Jeff everthin' ok?"

The idiot was loud and not cautious, and Daryl was glad he had a crossbow instead of a gun. If he'd shot the guy with a gun the others would have heard that and came in prepared and heavily armed. The asshole rounded the corner, saw the body, and Daryl shot him in the head just as his eyes landed on the archer. The second body hit the floor and Daryl knew his luck and time were running out. He took a deep breath and channeled his anger into control. He couldn't go raging through the house, he'd get killed and Beth would get raped, if she hadn't already.

"Somethin's up let's go check it out." Daryl thought this was the other guy who'd been standing with the one he'd just killed off to his right.

"Alright. C'mon."

Daryl's best guess was that the two front door guards and the guy to the right were coming towards him, three of them. Ok, this was going to take some thought. His current position was excellent for sniping one at a time as they came on him unaware, but three of them, he'd be a sitting duck. The weapons room was still guarded, if his gut was right, and that was off to the left. So the guards to the right had to be there for a reason, and it was likely that Beth was that reason.

Daryl crept down the hallway to the right, listening carefully to the footfalls on the other side. They weren't hunters; he knew that for certain. They moved loudly even when trying not to. One was right on the other side of the hallway wall; the others were about to enter the kitchen twenty feet behind him. Daryl quickly stepped around the hallway opening he was almost to and hit the closest man in the face with the butt of his crossbow before he could react, knocking him out cold. As, expected the tricky part began now. The other two came out of the kitchen guns aimed at him. He shot the first to clear the doorway and leapt into the bathroom across the hall to dodge the last one's bullets. He felt one graze his side and it stung, barely opening the flesh and causing blood to flow out. He quickly examined the cut as he reloaded his crossbow and stood with his back to the wall listening to the guy approach. It was only a flesh wound, not even bleeding much. He saw the bloody bullet hole in the wall where the bullet had ended up. Listening as the footsteps came down the hallway, Daryl realized how he could beat the guy. He shouldered his crossbow and drew his knife. Holding it in his right hand, the flat of the blade against his chest as he stood on the side of the wall against the hallway so the asshole would have to do a complete one eighty to shoot him with that long hunting rifle. Daryl heard the last footfall and the guy bent around the corner with his long rifle, like an idiot. As the gun came around Daryl grabbed the side of it and slammed it into the wall with his left hand as he stabbed the guy in the head with his right.

He wanted desperately to go and get Beth at that point, but he knew there were two more assholes and he had to clear the place out before he went for her, or it wouldn't be safe to get her out. He grabbed the rifle and quickly made his way to the weapons room which was still being guard by two very concerned looking men. They were standing back to back in the doorway. Daryl hid behind the wall to the hall at the other end of the house and shot one of them, drawing the fire and pursuit of the other. Daryl ran into the kitchen and hopped over the counter, sliding into his first hiding spot. He lay in a prone position in the floor and trained the rifle on the door. It was unlikely that they would expect him to be on the floor behind the counter so it gave him the element of surprise, and as the man rounded the corner his theory was proven correct. He shot the guy right in the head, no doubt he deserved to turn to a walker, but Daryl wasn't in the mood for dealing with the undead on his way out. He leapt to his feet, shouldered the rifle, and drew his crossbow. He ran to the end of the hallway where the guards had seemingly been stationed in front of a staircase that lead up to the second story. Daryl didn't think there were any more guards, because they would probably have come down, but he was rather certain that there was a man with Beth. As he took the stairs two at a time, he could hear her screams. His stomach clenched again, and the anger threatened to burn a hole in him. He kicked the door open to see a fat bald man, likely in his mid-forties jerking Beth's legs apart. His pants were undone and he was trying to force himself on her. She was crying and begging him to stop.

Daryl shot him in the lower chest with a bolt and punched him in the face as he started to fall towards Beth, knocking him back and away from her onto the floor beside the bed. This shot he'd not intended to use to kill the man, he wanted to look into his eyes as he dealt the final blow. Daryl punched him three more times and then plunged his hunting knife into his stomach and twisted watching the agony on his face, and getting a sick kind of pleasure out of it. He jerked the blade out and was going to let him die slowly and turn when he thought better of it. How would Beth feel if she knew this man was walking around as a walker? He plunged the knife into his head and ended it, then wiped the blood off of his knife on the dead man's shoulder, where his shirt was clean.

Turning around he took in Beth's appearance completely for the first time. She was lying on her back on a bed with her wrists tied together over her head to one of the bars on the headboard. He could see the bloody red marks on them where she'd struggled to get free. Tears stained her pretty face, and both relief and fear showed in her huge blue eyes. A thick banded dark green choker collar was fastened around her slender neck. Her blonde hair was the neatest he'd seen it since the prison, in two low ponytails, one under each ear tied with green ribbons; they fell onto her shoulders and covered the top of her . . . dress? Daryl wasn't sure what to call it, but it was definitely the most he'd ever seen of Beth's beautiful pale skin. The top she was wearing had no sleeves, and it was small, though it would cover her if it was completely laced up. The jackass who'd been trying to rape her had undone the laces of the dark green and white bodice bearing the tops of her breasts, Daryl looked away, knowing now was not the time to admire her feminine body. The shirt portion ended right below her breasts and left her stomach completely bare. There was a large black and blue bruise on the left side of her rib cage. Daryl felt his hands clench into fists; he knew that hadn't happened when she was with him. There were also bruises around her tiny waist which was smaller than Daryl had even imagined it to be, and he wondered if they'd fed her. Three days wasn't enough to starve to death but not eating at all, one would definitely become smaller and not in a healthy way. Beth hadn't had an ounce to lose in the first place. The white ruffled skirt started very low on her hips with a green band, and it ended quickly showing the very tops of her legs, and Daryl didn't allow his eyes to linger. Just above her knees she wore white stockings with green bows on the tops, and she wasn't wearing any shoes. It was clear that her costume was meant to be some sort of sexy southern belle or something along that line.

He approached her slowly knowing how traumatized she must be by what she'd been through and what she'd just watched him do.

"Daryl," she whined quietly, tears spilling free again, "I knew you'd come."

"Shhhh, hush now, I'ma get you outta here. Be still sweetheart, I'ma cut ya free." He reached up above her and cut the rope holding her wrists above her head, and sheathed his knife. As he did, her arms dropped awkwardly, it seemed they'd been in that position long enough that she'd lost feeling in them. Daryl carefully gathered her hands in his and placed them on her stomach. Then found her boots at the side of the room, he slid them onto her feet, but he couldn't find her old clothes. They'd just have to hunt down some more for her, she was in no condition to change herself right now, and he wasn't about to start undressing her after what had happened. They would have to find something soon though or she would freeze, and he really didn't feel comfortable looking at her in her state of undress as it was. He was already attracted to her enough, this didn't help his wandering eyes, and she really didn't need him looking at her lustfully at the moment. He could tell she was already cold, so he took off his vest and jacket and held her upper body up so he could wrap them around her. He lifted the fragile blonde into his arms, and made his way down the steps. Daryl was going to take the car but Beth begged him not to; she never wanted to see that car again, so instead he shot out the tires and then picked her up again, cradling her as he made his way into the woods.

Daryl knew he should say something, but he just couldn't think of what. His anger was still so hot, and he was almost afraid he was clutching her too tightly to his chest and hurting her. He was so afraid of losing her again. He'd told her he wasn't scared of anything, and at the time it was true, but now he was afraid of so many things, all concerning her. She had laid her head against his chest and allowed a few silent tears to flow, and his heart had wrenched in guilt. It was on him that she'd been taken. He wanted to know what all they'd done to her, but he was afraid to ask. He didn't like talking about being beaten by his father as a child; he doubted Beth would want to relive her traumatic experience.

After a little bit of time Daryl found a little barn that he thought would be as good a place as any to hole up for the night. He deposited Beth with the rifle he'd acquired some distance from the barn in a place he'd triple checked to make sure it was secure and out in the open so she could see any walkers approaching and call for him. It took less than a minute for him to clear the barn. There were no walkers and it was small, with a small loft that would serve as a good lookout spot. He returned to her, strapped his weapons back on to his back and lifted her into his arms again, wrapping her shivering form more tightly in his jacket. He knew it was probably about 3 a.m. at this point, and it was damn cold. He was just glad to have found a place to be off of the ground. The last thing she needed was to be sleeping on the cold dirt; she'd get sick for sure.

Inside the barn, he had to readjust how he carried her to get her up the ladder. Hurt as she was, and physically weak, there was no way she was going to be able to climb up. At first he was going to try to wrap an arm around her waist and hold her flush against him, but that would put pressure on her injured ribs, so he settled for carrying her in front of him, and having her wrap her arms around his neck and legs around his waist. He was afraid she wouldn't be strong enough to hold on for a traditional piggyback when he couldn't support her as he climbed. Daryl was hyperaware of the intimate closeness of their bodies as he climbed. He tried to ignore the fact that there was likely nothing between them but his jeans, as her skirt was so short, it was likely not even a factor. He fought back any physical reaction, reminding himself what she'd only just been through and cursing himself for a dirty old man.

Nonetheless they made it to the top of the ladder and he gently laid her down on the wood flooring, wishing he had something soft to put her on. His vest and jacket were protecting her upper body but her upper legs were practically bare. Hell, the jacket/vest combo hanged down lower on her than did her skirt.

"I'ma go make sure everthin's secure for the night," he told her softly and descended the ladder to the loft again after she nodded her understanding. Upon blocking the only door with some large troughs and throwing random shit in them to weigh them down, Daryl boarded up the two small windows, and climbed back up to Beth. She was lying there motionless just looking at him with those big blue eyes, full of trust as he approached her.

"Let's get some food in you Princess." He could have sworn her cheeks colored ever so slightly at his new pet name for her as he dug into his supplies and pulled out a plastic fork, a can of pork and beans, and a can of pears. He knew she didn't like pork and beans, but she needed some protein. He decided to start with the pears though, because they were her favorites. Daryl pulled out his pocket knife and opened the can. He used to just use his hunting knife, but she had gotten onto him about a week ago saying it was disgusting to think about using a knife he commonly used to kill walkers to touch food. Since this he'd done as she wished and only used his pocket knife on the canned foods they came across. Plus, he'd just used that knife to kill a man in front of her and he didn't exactly want to pull it out and have the memory come rushing back to her. Daryl put the fork in the can of pears and moved closer to her.

"Did they feed you at all?" he asked solemnly, and she shook her head, trying to sit upright, but struggling. Daryl shoved away all of his anxiety about being in close contact with people, he'd already pretty much shattered the rule with her anyways, and sat the can down for a moment. He gently pulled her up and moved her to sit between his legs, with her back leaning against his chest. Her legs were shaking in the cold, so he gently removed the jacket from her and separated it from the vest. He wrapped the jacket around her upper legs, and helped her put the vest back on. It was quite a few sizes too large for her, but maybe it would provide some minimal amount of warmth and help cover her modesty. Not that he minded seeing more of her, but he knew she did. He could also use his own body heat to keep her warm, wrapping his arms around her if need be, that was something he certainly wouldn't be opposed to. He cautiously wrapped his left arm around her waiting for her to show any sign of protest, when she sighed and relaxed against him, he allowed himself a moment to enjoy how perfectly they fit together. The top of her head was right in front of his nose and he couldn't help but think how good her hair smelled, and he noticed that she'd pulled out the green ribbons and allowed it to fall down over her shoulders naturally. He didn't know if this was to rid herself of something they'd likely forced on her or to use her hair to cover her shoulders for modesty or warmth, but he had to admit to himself he liked her hair down long better.

Daryl grabbed the fork from the can and speared a few diced pear pieces. He held it up in front of her and she waved it away.

"I'm not hungry."

"Thought ya said they didn't feed ya."

"They didn't."

"It's been three days Beth. Need ta eat."

She didn't say anything for a minute.

"Please, for me? You need to get your strength up."

"I'm sorry you had to carry me." She reached for the fork and he pulled it away to get her attention. She looked at him behind her.

"Ain't what I meant. I don't mind carryin' ya, but we both know ya need to get stronger than ya are right now."

She nodded and reached a shaky hand to take the fork from him. "Shh, I'm takin care of ya tonight," he said as he pulled her hand down with his left hand and brought the fruit to her lips with his right. She let him feed her for a few minutes taking tiny bites from the forked fruit he offered her. When she'd eaten a third of the can and protested that she was full he put the fork back in the can and offered her some water. "Di' they a'least give ya water?"

She nodded. "Had plenty of water." She looked down, clearly fighting the tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes. "They didn't let me eat, so I would lose my strength. I fought them so hard, just like you taught me, but they were bigger than me, 'n' there were a bunch of 'em." The tears started slowly flowing down her cheeks.

Daryl felt himself swallow. He felt, so much guilt concerning what had happed. He wanted to know more, wanted to know every detail, so he could process it and let it fuel the internal rage he held onto. He wrapped his arms protectively around her, pulling her back against his chest. Her head rested against his left shoulder. She was still shivering, so he spread his arms across her to cover as much of her upper torso as he could, which wound up being a lot with his big arms and her small body. He hoped the body heat from his bare arms would seep into hers.

"Don't let go?" she asked, and he nodded, his cheek rubbing the side of her head as he did. Why did her hair smell so good? It hadn't smelled bad at all before, but this was new. They'd bathed her or something; she was way too clean for that not to have been the case, and then there were all the bruises on her. He had to know. He had to know what all had happened, but she was so content, just sitting here in his arms, and he had to admit he was loving it too. He wouldn't ruin it just yet; he felt her body stilling and the shivering subside as she rested against him. Daryl felt so protective of her, he couldn't even begin to explain it to himself. He never wanted to let her go.

A little while passed as they sat there, tangled together. Beth shifted a bit to the left so she could look up at him; she was smiling. "Thank you for saving me Daryl," she said sweetly.

"Wuzn't nothin' I shouldn't 'a' let ya get took in the first place," he said.

She leaned her head further out about to respond to what he said and probably tell him he was being stupid and it wasn't his fault, but before she could say anything his eyes landed on some red marks on her neck as her hair flew out when she turned.

"Daryl-" she began, but he cut her off when he reached and tucked her long blonde hair behind her shoulder to get a better look at her in the moonlight coming through the opening in the loft. He ran his thumb over the red marks on her neck, studying them. Bite marks, but not from a walker; these were the type of thing that happened during rough sex. His thumb slid over them and she looked down, ashamed, though she'd done nothing to be ashamed of. He pushed the vest off of her shoulder and saw where they continued onto it. This was why she'd let her hair down. She didn't want him to see. Pushing the vest off of her completely he began examining her more thoroughly.

"Daryl," her voice was pleading, but he blocked it out. He had to know. His eyes traveled down to where her top was still unlaced, baring the tops of her breasts. He swore under his breath as he saw the bite marks there, too. He wasn't about to undress her, so he met her eyes for the first time since his discovery. She looked ashamed. "There's more under here?" he asked angrily gesturing to her top.

She looked down in what he only knew to be affirmation. He swore colorfully. "Was it that bastard I killed that was with ya or some other asswipe?"

"It was him," she answered never looking up. Daryl unsheathed his knife and stabbed it into the floor viciously, imagining killing him again. Beth jumped at the sudden violent motion.

Daryl clenched his jaw and asked the question he'd been dreading. "Did he get inside ya 'fore I got to 'im?" he asked so loudly that it was practically yelled.

She shook her head quickly. "No, you stopped him." The way she looked at him and spread her hands over his chest showed him just how grateful she was for that. Normally the caress would unnerve him, but he was too angry with those assholes to worry about it now, and since he'd opened the door he might as well clear the room. "Did anyone else get inside you?" his voice a coarse growl this time.

She looked around hesitantly, and he gripped his knife hilt harder.

"Well, not like _that_," she said quietly, looking down.

"The hell does that mean?" he yelled at her, Daryl was seeing red and wanting to learn who to kill. She was shaking again, and this time he knew he'd caused it rather than the cold. Guilt swept over him, not for the first time.

"When they um, first took me, when they got me back there. . ." she started crying and Daryl dropped the knife and pulled her to his chest, wrapping both arms around her. "You can tell me Princess, I ain't gonna hurt ya. I'm sorry if I scared ya."

"This man was there and he told them to tie me down to that bed and he . . . he felt inside me to see if I was a virgin." Daryl held her tightly. "Which one?" he growled.

"I don't know; he seemed like the leader or something. He had black short hair and he was really tall and pale. Said they'd get more for me if I was a virgin."

That sounded exactly like the guy Daryl had taken for the leader and shot between the eyes. If he could take it back he would, and he'd make sure he suffered. "I killed 'im." Daryl assured her. Not sure if it would make her feel any better. It wasn't doing much for him. "But none of 'em put his dick in you?"

She shook her head, "you stopped the first one to try. They weren't gonna let anyone have me for the first three days, 'fraid I'd fight back too much. Wanted ta starve me so I wouldn't have the strength to fight, but I fought him anyways. Kicked 'im an' all."

"Good girl," he soothed rubbing his hand over her back, proud of her for fighting.

"Didn't keep 'im from biting me and kissin' me after I couldn't keep it up no more. He'd just finished bitin and tried to . . ." she trailed off crying into him. "You saved me Daryl."

"Anyone woulda done the same."

She shook her head, "no Daryl, not anyone woulda or coulda done that. It was you. Isn't there anything I can do to thank you?" She was looking at him with those huge eyes that melted his heart. Her hands resting on his chest, gratitude written all over her face, and he had to look away or else he might have kissed her. That would have been the perfect thanks in his book, except he didn't deserve it, and it wasn't what she needed right now especially. Her lips were red and there was an open wound on the bottom one. The asshole probably bit her sweet lips roughly too. Daryl couldn't take his eyes off of them, so he rested his hand on the side of her face and she leaned into it. He rubbed her bottom lip with his thumb. "Bit ya here too didn' he?"

She didn't even have to say anything for him to know. She just stared into his eyes and he almost sucked in a breath when her eyes traveled to his lips and started to get heavy. No, he couldn't kiss her, no matter how tempting it was to gently press his lips to hers and try to take all her hurt away, show her what real kissing could be like. But he wouldn't, she didn't need that right now, and especially not from him, regardless of what she seemed to be thinking. His eyes trailed down her body to try to distract himself from wanting to kiss her. _Great idea Dixon_. He scolded himself as his plan backfired when his eyes passed over her barely covered breasts to her tiny waist. Then the large bruise on her ribs grabbed his attention and he lightly ran his thumb over it. Drawing her attention down to it. He was still supporting her back with his left hand and forearm, and he felt her wince back from his touch on her ribs. The pain was in her face too, and he already felt guilty for touching her bruise, but he wanted to see if her ribs were broken.

He spoke softly to her to convey that he didn't want to hurt her, "Let me see if they're broken Angel." Another pet name he accidentally let slip, and her eyes met his again. She nodded and he held onto her more tightly with his left arm so she would be still. He put pressure on the bruise with his thumb and two fingers and felt for a break in the bone. Beth bit her lip as he came to the place where he could feel two of her ribs broken. He immediately moved his hand away and she relaxed.

"Feels like two are broken, what happened?"

"The leader man hit me really hard when I was trying to fight them off."

Daryl didn't say anything, he just moved his hand to run over some of the smaller, newer looking bruises on her stomach.

"The man that was trying to force himself on me . . . He hit me when I kicked at him."

Daryl looked away and then back to meet her eyes. "This is on me."

"What? No, it isn't! Daryl how could you even think that?"

"I shoulda never let you go outside of that funeral home alone."

"Yeah, then I'da got eaten by walkers. I couldn't run and fight then with my leg. You did the right thing. You didn't know there were evil people right outside Daryl. They set it all up. The dog, the walkers everything. The last girl they had . . . well they killed her, so they were tryin' to get another girl. It ain't on you! You saved me! Besides, you ain't the one with innocent blood on your hands."

"What are you sayin' girl?" now he was totally confused.

"There was this older lady that they had held prisoner there too. She cooked for 'em an' all, and took care of me, cleanin me up and bringin water an' all. They wouldn't let her bring me no food. Earlier today they had her clean me up real good and wash my hair an' all, and put perfume on me, and this stupid costume. They made her help me get dressed in it. . . They had to untie me for that. That was the only time besides when I got to go to the bathroom that they untied me. It took a little while to clean me up and do all that and when I was dressed she tried to help me escape out the window, cause the guard stepped out for a second. . . They killed her Daryl for tryin' to help me escape. An' it was for nothin' I was too weak to run on my ankle an' they caught me and tied me right back up, an' hit me again."

She motioned to her right breast where she'd been hit and Daryl could see a little bit of the bruise peeking out just above her top and just below it. It was a big bruise. He'd missed it earlier, trying to divert his eyes from her breasts.

"She died Daryl, because of me! She was so kind to me," Beth began to sob and he pulled her against his chest and wrapped both arms around her, not knowing what else to do.

"That ain't on you Beth. They killed her, not you. You woulda done the same thing if you'd been in her place. She was a good person, but her blood ain't on you, so I ain't gonna hear no more about that cause it ain't true," he was gentle but firm, making sure she understood that it wasn't her fault.

She looked up at him defiantly, "then I don't wanna hear nothin' about me bein' taken bein' your fault!"

He sighed, figuring she was about right.

"Daryl you need to eat too you know? And sleep, you're so tired." She leaned forward out of the protection of at least one of his arms for the first time in over an hour, wincing with the pain in her ribs, and collected the can of pears with the fork sticking out the top.

"Careful now," he pulled her back against him, seeing the pain on her face, his hands instinctively going to her waist and resting there as she leaned against his left shoulder so she could look up at him. She was smiling again and holding the can of pears.

"It's my turn to feed you now."

He felt himself turn red. "Nah I can feed myself."

"But I want to. I don't want you to let go of me," she said so softly that he couldn't argue. If it was possible for him to turn redder and become even more protective and possessive of her, he did in that moment. She brought the forked pears up to his mouth and he took the bite, feeling ridiculous, but she was smiling. Sometimes he wondered if there was anything he wouldn't do to see this woman smile. After she fed him the second bite, he took the fork from her and said, "Alright, but you're eating too." He speared a few pears and held them up to her lips, she took a dainty bite, and he watched her lips as he moved the fork out of her mouth, willing himself to have clean thoughts. Sitting this close to her with his hand on her bare waist holding her there wasn't helping the situation at all for him. Then, she took the fork back purposefully and fed him another bite, her eyes softening when he took it back again to feed her. They took turns feeding each other, slowly, taking their time. She'd stopped smiling those fun little smiles and instead she was making these eyes at him, and he felt like she could see into his soul. Daryl didn't even know what to do with it, and it made it immensely more difficult to not notice how her lips moved with every bite she took. He fed her the last bite of pears and watched intently as she licked the juice off of her lips, wanting desperately to claim those soft lips and tongue with his own. He looked up at her eyes, noticing they were trained on his lips and had that heavy look to them again. He forced himself to look down, else he might kiss her, and he instantly regretted it. He had to stop looking down at her body, there were even more distractions there.

He noticed her shivers and goose bumps just as she leaned forward, pressing herself against him, trying to soak up some of his body heat. He mentally swore, he'd been too distracted by her to remember that he'd taken the vest off of her and she was probably getting very cold in her skimpy top. Just because he liked seeing her like that didn't mean it was comfortable for her. His left arm wrapped around her waist with his hand clinging to her tight tummy hadn't been enough. He cursed himself for being stupid and a dirty old redneck. Her head was laying against his chest as she shivered against him staring at his right arm with a slight blush and little smile on her face. Was she admiring his muscles and wanting him to wrap his other arm around her too and hold her close?

"You cold Angel? Want my vest around ya?"

She blushed and looked up into his eyes. "I'd rather your arms," she said so sweetly he thought it coulda melted him.

And for once he didn't force himself into a full retreat. "How 'bout both?"

She nodded happily, the blush still coloring her pretty features.

He leaned forward, another terrible idea, causing her breasts to press further into his chest, felt easily through his thin worn out shirt, and snatched up the leather vest. He helped her put the vest on, thinking the angel wings on the back suited her much more than him. He helped hold her up and wrapped it around her, the two front panels completely overlapping on her tiny form. Then he scooted about two feet back so he was leaning against a pile of hay and moved his legs so they were straight out in front of him then reached over and lifted Beth towards him and onto his lap before leaning back into the hay and wrapping his arms around her tightly. His jacket was still tied around her upper legs keeping them warm.

Beth laid her head on his shoulder again and placed her hand against his chest, wiggling around on top of him to get comfortable. Daryl couldn't ignore the feeling of her moving around against him, though he tried. Images of her squirming around under him filled his mind and he swore out loud.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"You gotta hold still Beth."

She looked at him confusedly. "I'm sorry."

"'s fine, just try t' sleep."

Her little fist closed loosely around some of the fabric of the front of his shirt, and she looked up at him one last time before closing her eyes, and pressing herself against him for warmth. Daryl tightened his arms around her protectively, knowing he was a fool for letting the two of them get into this position.

Fifteen minutes or so later, he thought she'd gone to sleep. It had completely eluded him, despite his past few days of sleep deprivation; too much had happened. He started cycling the events of the evening through his mind again for the fifth time, his anger still hot, and probably the cause of his state of sleeplessness, when she looked up at him.

"Daryl I can't sleep; I wish we had a bed."

Why did she have to say 'w_e'_?

Daryl cleared his throat, refocusing his thoughts.

"Why ya say that? Ya not comfortable?"

"No, I'm comfortable . . . I just think it would be easier for us t' get warm, and you wouldn't have to be in that itchy hay, and we could just lay down."

Shit, she really was thinking about sleeping in a bed with him. And she had a point. It was damn cold up here. He was used to the cold, but he knew she must be freezing despite his attempts to keep her warm. Likely the trauma she'd gone through today was keeping her from being able to fall asleep, too. He could tell that he was comforting her, but she'd gone through so much, that she probably needed some normalcy like a bed.

"Lemme see what I can find, to make one," he whispered to her. She nodded and reluctantly let go of him as he laid her gently down against the hay and descended the loft to find something, anything.

The first things he came across were some burlap sacks, then he found a bag of feed. He hoped to find some cloth or a blanket, but no luck. Daryl hauled the bag of feed and burlap sacks up the ladder. She was laying there looking like an angel, clinging to his vest around her and watching him with those huge blue eyes. He put the bag of feed down to use as a pillow and filled the burlap sacks part way with hay and lined the five of them up below the feed bag short ways. The result kind of actually looked like a bed. Daryl looked back over to Beth. She was smiling at him happily. He walked back over to her and smirked before lifting her up quickly and effortlessly into his arms as she giggled. As he picked her up the jacket fell from her legs and his eyes instantly fixed on them, long and slender and beautiful.

He laid her down on their makeshift bed and went back for the jacket.

"You too," she said as he returned. He nodded and laid down next to her, pulling her into his arms and draping the jacket over them as a blanket, making sure it completely covered her shoulders, back and both arms, and letting the remainder fall on his right shoulder and arm even though it left his back exposed with the exception of his thin shirt. It wasn't like he had much sensation left in his back anyways, scarred as it was. Beth tucked herself into him pushing their bodies flush against each other as they lay on their sides facing each other. Daryl intertwined their legs to help keep hers warm.

She smiled at him, "Thank you."

He just grunted a reply and they both drifted off to sleep.

-o-oOo-o-

Daryl woke suddenly when he felt Beth jerking around in his arms.

"No, nooo," she moaned. She was jerking around and sweating. Her hands clenched into fists. "No, please no!"

She was having a nightmare. Daryl shook her gently. "Beth wake up, yer havin' a nightmare." Nothing happened, she just kept thrashing around and saying 'no.'

Beth started crying and breathing awkwardly and Daryl sat up and shook her harder. "Beth! Beth!"

She woke with a start and a little scream.

"Beth! Beth, it's ok. Yer safe. I gotcha Sweetheart." He pulled her limp body up to him, his fingers tangling in her blonde waves as he pulled her up, supporting her back and head as she took deep calming breaths, coming back into reality, tears still flowing down her cheeks.

"Oh, Daryl!" She clung to his shirt, and buried her face in his neck.

"'S ok, I ain't gonna let nobody or nothin' hurt ya or touch ya ever again. Ain't lettin' ya outta my sight. Yer safe." He still held her protectively, both arms around her, his right hand tangled in her hair. Her body slowly stopped trembling as he held her. After a little bit he pulled her back, so he could see her face, and started wiping the tears from her eyes, his hand resting against the side of her face. Her hands rested, one on each of his shoulders.

"I knew you'd come for me," she whispered.

"'Course I would Princess . . . just wish I'd got there sooner."

She cupped his cheek, "You got there as soon as you could, don't you go blamin' yourself again. You kept me from gettin' raped Daryl." Tears started falling from her eyes quickly again and he watched them trail from her cheeks to her chin and drop off onto her still heaving chest, and onto the exposed tops of her breasts. The vest had fallen open in all of the commotion, and he watched her breasts rise and fall, moistened with her tears, unable to pull his eyes away. She must have seen where he was looking, how could she not? Because she reached down and started unlacing her top further, exposing more of the pale wet skin to him. It took a second and every ounce of his will power but he grabbed her hand and whispered "stop."

"Its ok Daryl, I don't mind if you see. I like looking at you too, she looked up to meet his eyes, a blush covering her pretty features, and she delicately reached up to graze her hand over his muscular shoulder and arm, stopping to rest her hand on his bicep. Then she was looking at his eyes again, and dropping her gaze to his lips. She slowly leaned forward, and brushed her lips over his, not kissing him, but inviting him to take her lips as she hovered there, the pink flesh so deliciously soft and tempting.

"Beth," he groaned. "This ain't right."

"Why not?" she just barely pulled back from his lips to look up at his eyes.

"You just been through somethin' real traumatic, last thing you need is some dirty redneck, fifteen years older than you all over you."

"Daryl I spent three days bein' touched and kissed by men I didn't want touchin' and kissin' me. I just wanna make my own decisions, an' I want this, and I know you do too. I can tell, but if I'm wrong just tell me."

He grumbled, "'course you ain't wrong. Reckon I'm one obvious shitbag ain't I? I ain't got no business wantin' someone like you Beth, you deserve a helluva lot better than some redneck asshole."

"I think I oughta be able to decide what I want Daryl Dixon, an' that's you."

He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holdin' back. "Alright, but we ain't takin' this any farther tonight then you've been before, willin' like, what them shitbags did to ya don't count."

She blushed, "but that's just kissin' Daryl."

"Then that's all we're doin' tonight." And he claimed her lips.

Daryl kissed her gently, like he might break her, and tried his best to show her how much he cared about her, he'd never really been good at that before or really had a reason to want to show it. The women he'd been with before really had never drawn an emotional attachment from him.

He licked her lips to get her to open her mouth and he found her sweet tongue, as he did this she grabbed his biceps and pressed herself flush against him, moaning. He lifted her into his lap and grabbed onto her tiny waist as he kissed her passionately. Then, he tangled his hand into her soft blonde waves, keeping her mouth on his as his fingers memorized the curve of her waist pulling her against him again. She moaned and arched her back, purposefully rubbing her breasts over his chest.

He groaned and pulled away from the kiss, "you gotta quit bein' a bad girl," his voice was huskier than normal and he saw the goose bumps raise on her skin.

"I'm _your_ bad girl." She pressed her lips back to his and he kissed her deeply for a minute before pulling away. She followed his lips when he did, and he laughed a little.

"We gotta quit Beth, or I won't stop."

"You don't have to, I'd let you do anything you want to with me."

"Beth, don't say that." She was already hard enough to resist; he didn't need her telling him too.

"I mean it Daryl. If you asked me to lay back and let you take me I would."

"Stop. I know you ain't ready for it to go that far."

"But I'd still let you. When they had me held there, I was so afraid. You were the only thing I'd think about, and when I found out what they were plannin' and that I was gonna get raped by some horrible man I didn't even know, I just kept wishin' it would be you instead. Then it wouldn't 've been rape, and my first time would be special like it's supposed to be. I'd always wanted to wait til I was married, but layin' there not thinkin' I'd ever get that chance, I'd 've done anything for it to be you for my first time."

Her words knocked the wind out of him, and he couldn't think of what to say, so he kissed her gently and laid her back onto their makeshift bed, before pulling away and looking into her eyes.

"Not til you're ready." And for the first time in his life, Daryl Dixon considered where he might be able to find an engagement ring.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: First, as always, I HOPE everyone was in character. I feel pretty good about Daryl, but I hope Beth was ok. I know she was pretty 'damsel in distress' in this, but I really wanted Daryl to come in and rescue her. I felt like he needed that. She wasn't going down without a fight though. That guy was in there for a while with her and she was fighting back; we just don't see it because it's Daryl's POV. Also, it may seem out of character for her to be so needy and dependent on Daryl, but you've got to consider what she just went through. He kinda becomes her lifeline, and wanting to go farther than kissing with him and all that was stemmed from all of that. He saved her, became her hero and she wanted to thank him, and she fell for him. It's a little traditional/typical/cliché but I like that sort of thing, and I think it fits. It's like Daryl was trying to tell her, she's been through a lot of trauma and her emotions are high. He doesn't want to take advantage of the situation, when normally she'd want to take things slow. She's also just wanting to feel something other than fear. She needs his kind, caring touch, and he's treating her like she deserves and she kind of gets addicted to it and wants more. But if you disagree with me on this, that's fine. I'd love to hear what you think! I'm not hateful, lol.**

**By the way, Daryl's commando skills were inspired by Joel from The Last of Us and of course Daryl himself. **

**And finally, in all of my Bethyl fic's I've had a small reference to either Sandor Clegane or Sansan, because of the similarities between Sansan and Bethyl. (And the fact that ASoIaF is my other favorite fandom). There was one in Dixons Don't Dance (my other Bethyl fic) too. Did anyone catch it in this one (or either of the fics really)?**

**Please review and tell me what you thought, if you didn't like something I very well may change it if you just tell me, or if you loved it I want to hear. Reviews make my day, and if you want to discuss something in the story I usually reply to reviews. **

**If you want me to write a one-shot for a prompt you have, simply PM me, review here with the prompt, or click my "Ask" link on Tumblr (link to my Tumblr is on my profile).**

**Thanks!**

**3 engineergirl86**


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